


Dean and Sam Go Hiking

by crimsonwinter



Category: Supernatural (TV)
Genre: Hiking, M/M, NSFW, Wincest - Freeform, basically brokeback mountain, sam and dean - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:59:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonwinter/pseuds/crimsonwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuff happens in the tent. Need I say more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean and Sam Go Hiking

"Dean, my feet hurt." 

"Stop complaining."

"Dean-" The demon hunter shot a glare back at his brother, and Sam was instantly silent. They were hiking up a mountain to the site that one of their leads had mentioned, and it was mind January, so the air was just chilly enough to cause the brothers’ noses to stiffen into cold tips.

However, hunting wasn’t on the boys’ minds as they trekked further up the hill. 

Looking back a few hours, before they’d left, Dean had wandered into the living room right as Sam was emerging from the shower, tight white towel fitted snugly around his solid hips, droplets of water falling from his hair and sliding down his muscular exposed torso.

Dean had shouted at Sam to stop doing that, as it’d happened many times before. Sam was smug, he did it on purpose, loving the strange reaction Dean made when his green eyes explored his naked chest.

Dean always had known that he was unnaturally attracted to his younger brother, and he was disgusted by it. Firstly, he didn’t think he was attracted to men at all, and secondly, it was Sam. His brother. That was incest. 

Nonetheless, Dean’s body reacted accordingly to Sam’s wet hair and skin and he left the room slapping himself and breathing cool breaths in an attempt to force his arousal down.

Sam didn’t know the extent that Dean was attracted to him, but he teased him about it endlessly. He would walk around shirtless, make moaning sounds during a good dinner, even occasionally asking Dean for sex advice. He was the devil in this way, torturing his brother mercilessly on such a touchy subject.

They’d left soon after Sam was dry and dressed and drove up to the mountains with the classic road trip vibe surrounding them like fog.

Now Sam was staring back at his brother as they walked on top of cold dirt. Dean was scowling and Sam decided it’d be best to stay quiet.

A few silent minutes later, Dean balked and dropped his backpack. “We can camp here,” he said, his voice nearly a growl. He’d been thinking of how his stomach coiled at the sight of Sam, and he spent the next three hours berating himself on that disgusting thought.

Sam stifled a laugh at Dean’s intensely furrowed brows and tight scowl.

The younger brother set his own bag down and sighed, his hot breath escaping his lips and disappearing into the darkening sky. “It’s nice here…” He spoke, mostly to himself, but Dean recognized his delight and turned his eyes up to look at him. 

Sam Winchester was beautiful in every sense of the phrase. His childlike innocence at first glance was startling, but the prankster inside him seeped out with time. His medium length, shaggy brown hair was always fluttering around his face, his carmel eyes sparkling wonderfully against his square jaw and manly stubble. He always wore flannels and jeans, a beige coat if it was colder out. His smile was brilliant, and to Dean’s dismay, always caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

Dean was older, with shorter, sandy blond hair and deep green eyes. His grin was wide and white and it stood out against his tight jaw and long face, hidden beneath plump pink lips. 

Both brothers were young and spritely, having worked up the muscle needed when hunting demons and angels in disguise.

Now they sat silently, unpacking their belongings onto the dirt ground of a small clearing of the forest. Trees shot up around them in a ring, most likely all part of the same root.

Some minutes later, the tent was set up and Dean shouted at Sam to find some firewood. Sam obeyed and disappeared into the dark, a small flashlight as his guide.  
When he returned with the bundle of dry twigs, he heard Dean muttering to himself, “It’s SAM!”

Sam balked and stepped back into the bushes. It seemed cliched that he did this, but he was intrigued, and it was obvious that Dean didn’t want to be heard.  
Dean paced around the tent, his anger doing little to hide his volume. “Sam. Your brother. YOUR BROTHER.”

Sam pondered what he could’ve been referencing until he heard, “You’re not even gay!”

The younger brother’s heart began to race and he wished he could stab one of the twigs he was holding through it in order to calm it. His face heated, as did his groin, but he kept a low profile and listened. Once Dean stopped, he’d wander out of the darkness. Until then…

"You’re sick. You’re disgusting. Thinking about your own brother that way?! Keep your head in the game, Dean. Don’t think about it, Dean. You’re here to hunt, Dean. You can’t go around thinking about… your brother… like that!" He shoved his fingers through his hair roughy and sat down beside the tent, tense and quiet.  
After a minute or so, Sam finally emerged with the twigs.

"I got some wood," he said, careful to keep this newfound knowledge of Dean’s predicament hidden behind impassive words. Dean looked up, painfully dragging himself from his tormented thoughts. For a few seconds, he was worried Sam had heard him, but his brother’s warm countenance comforted him.

Sam kneeled down beside the pit of stones Dean had arranged and began to place the twigs there with some crumpled up newspaper. Dean couldn’t keep his eyes away as Sam gently blew air underneath the twigs and the flames leapt up and lighted his face with a warm orange glow.

It was nearly awkward between them, both men shifting uncomfortably around the fire, silently replaying Dean’s conversation with himself in their heads. Dean spoke aloud and scrambled to fetch the beers he’d brought.

The men drank heavily, eager to numb the tension away. Somehow, the campfire’s crackling and the forest air made the men heady, and frankly, rather romantic. Sam eyed Dean flirtatiously, he was plotting something horrid.

He spoke softly, “It’s getting cold… Maybe we should go inside the tent?”

Dean was rough. “It’s fine. We have a fire.”

"But I’m getting sleepy."

"You’re a baby, it’s not even late."

Sam glared at his brother but his harsh eyes softened at remembering Dean’s confession. He didn’t fully understand what he had said, but he knew it had something to do with the strange attraction he felt towards his brother, as well as his brother’s towards him.

"Well," Sam stood, the beer’s neck sliding through his fingers before he caught it again, "I’m going to bed. Come in and cuddle if you want."

Dean tensed, “What?!”

"It was a joke, Jesus." Sam retreating into the tent and let out a breath. Sam lied and curled up with the small blankets they’d brought, his empty beer getting set in the corner of the tent. He pushed his fists up under his neck as he flopped to his side. He half hoped that Dean would come and cuddle with him. The beer had  impaired his judgement and he was getting anxious waiting. He really did want Dean to emerge through the tent's opening and look upon him with half-lidded eyes as Sam often did with Dean. He rustled about for a bit before sticking his head out of the tent, the zipper nearly snagging his shaggy hair.

He was tipsy, and although one beer wasn’t much, the thoughts that had swarmed through his head had caused him a natural high and he felt himself ignite when he slurred the words, “I told you to come cuddle.”

Dean had finished his beer and was sitting in the position he was before, his head in his hands, his knees bent. He looked to be in pain. "Sam, stop."

"I’m just saying we should huddle to get warm."

"Huddle?" Dean was curious if he’d just heard Sam wrong.

"Yeah, huddle. Come on, there’s no use in staying out there, the fire’s dying anyway."

It wasn’t, but Sam desperately wanted to feel his brother’s body beside his, however wrong that may be.

Dean finally gave in, his own thoughts going wild. What if Sam had meant just sleep near each other? Dean had thought he meant spoon, cuddle, or even snuggle… but Sam probably just wanted to get some rest.

Dean extinguished the fire with the dirty river water he’d collected on their way up the mountain, the hiss of it dying rather satisfying.

Sam retreated back inside the tent and moved the blankets around to make some room. He wanted to cuddle with his older brother, was that so bad? Dean crawled on all fours into the tent and caught a heated look in Sam’s eye which instantly shot a spark to his groin. Sam was just playing… right?

Dean awkwardly shuffled around and undid his belt. Sam’s curious eyes followed his hands down to where they fumbled with the clasp. Dean didn’t mean it to look sexual, he just didn’t like to sleep with a belt. He forced his blush to disappear and he averted Sam’s gaze. Sam got a less than innocent vibe from the act and turned his back to Dean as he flopped down on his side, sticking his rear out. Dean looked down at his brother while he threw his belt off his pants, naughty, disgusting thoughts instantly flooding his head. He pushed them away as he slid down beneath the blankets.

Dean wondered if Sam was pranking him, but he’d never held a prank this long before. He’d said he was joking, but then he’d started the joke again.

Dean was careful not to touch his brother as he wiggled beside him, his jeans and jacket still on. He pulled the blanket over both him and his brother and leaned over Sam carefully to turn off the lantern which had been glowing faint yellow light beside Sam’s head.

Sam turned to Dean, his face just a foot below his brother’s. He gave Dean a puzzled look, as if to say, “You’re still going to cuddle me, right?”

Dean assumed correctly the first time, but forced his mind to change the look into something else.

"Oh," he mumbled, "Did you not want to light off?"

Sam pursed his lips and shut his eyes, and Dean retracted his hand, the tent now dark.

Dean and Sam were inches apart, their backs turned towards each other. The night was still and cold. Sam wished Dean would just turn over and spoon him, and he was too fuzzy in his thoughts to catch the sexuality in that phrase. Dean wanted to spoon Sam as well, but he knew that Sam would give up the act and freak out, then their tender relationship would be over.

Tense minutes passed and neither of the men were able to sleep. Dean was replaying the look Sam had given him over in his mind. He knew Sam wasn’t drunk, he’d only had one beer. He knew Sam wasn’t pranking him, he would have given up by now. He was afraid of his thoughts but even more terrified that Sam might actually know of them.

Sam was aching, he wanted to feel his brother’s arms around him so badly. He wanted to rub his rear against Dean and fall asleep with Dean’s face nestled in his neck. Sam let his thoughts wander to the end of the spectrum that was less innocent, and he also let his body react accordingly.

He became aroused and felt his jeans tighten, his erection straining as the images of their forbidden love speckled through his mind like the spottiness of post flash-photos.

Sam shifted in his spot, reaching a hand down to adjust his trousers. Dean heard him and assumed that Sam wasn’t actually asleep. He wanted to ask if Sam was joking. That was the only way he could break the barrier of awkward brothers and heady lovers.

Dean’s voice cracked through, “Sam…”

Sam was startled but pleased at the sound of his name, and he hoped Dean wasn’t going to get up and leave.

"Were you joking about the cuddling?" Dean instantly felt stupid asking, but he was in a dark tent with his brother and his pulse was quickening due to his own arousal, so he had thrown caution to the wind and hoped to sort this out.

Sam smiled to himself. He was now aware that Dean had thought him joking, just another one of his pranks, and all of this bullshit could go away in seconds if he said that it was, in fact, a joke. But he didn’t want it to go away. Dean’s voice only made him harder and he wanted to push himself, see how far he could go before he tapped out. He wanted to see if Dean would go further as well, which, after hearing his confession earlier, seemed more plausible.

"No," Sam said, his eyes still closed.

Sam’s stomach dropped when he instantly felt strong arms wrap around him. His entire body had been pulled in towards Dean, and he couldn’t suppress his whimper as he felt Dean push his groin up against his backside.

Dean was astonished and elated that Sam didn’t immediately push him off and scream at him. Sam only ground his rear into Dean as a sign of consent, and Dean was instantly shaken of his doubts and fears. He slid one arm down Sam’s torso and tucked it under his shirt, feeling the warm, soft skin that stretched tightly over Sam’s hips and abs.

Was he going too fast? Did Sam not actually want this? Sam groaned at the contact, the feel of Dean’s tender fingers sliding over his chest and shoulders under his shirt making him melt. No, they were good.

Dean was straining against his jeans, and after retracting his hand from Sam’s hot skin, he unbuttoned his pants and slid them down, allowing his boxers to contain his arousal only. 

Sam pressed himself against it. His entire being sparked with the feel of Dean and he decided quickly to shimmy out of his own jeans.   
During this time, Dean pushed his pants down farther, and now both men were just in their boxers under the blanket.

The older brother’s breath was irregular as he went back to exploring Sam’s chest and hips, his flat muscles and sparse hair providing a guiding strip down to his core.

Dean wanted so badly to slip his hands down below Sam’s elastic waistband, grip his soft flesh, and indulge in the forbidden taste of being with his own brother. Sam wanted the same, and finally took control of the tense moment by plunging Dean’s hand into his boxers.

Sam’s neck heated and his face flushed, his stomach dropped and his thighs twitched. Everything around him became blurry and he couldn’t keep his mouth from trickling moans and gasps from his wet lips.

The men rocked and moved in their tent, the night around them full of growls, whimpers, and moans. Sweat and shivers prickled the skin of the brothers, and the air in the tent stilled as they both reached their limits. Sam cried out Dean’s name as he released his own bliss, Dean doing the same after rubbing against his brother.  
They were both too ashamed to speak, so they fell asleep slowly, forcing the morning versions of themselves to deal with the consequences.

For the moment, Dean spooned his brother and breathed his hot breath onto Sam’s neck. Sam relished in the dreamlike haze around him, his older brother’s arms and warmth comforting him more than the flimsy blanket they lied beneath.

They fit like a puzzle: a very odd, incestuous puzzle.


End file.
